Forty years ago, on 11 April 1969, the Beatles released “Get Back” / “Don’t Let Me Down” as their second 45-rpm single for their semi-independent label, Apple. In the spirit of an era when live performance had roared back into prominence, the Beatles had begun to feel trapped by their decision to abandon the stage for the studio. This recording represented an attempt to “get back” to their vitality as a band. Ironically, even in the first year of Beatles recordings, artist-and-repertoire manager George Martin and his balance engineer Norman Smith had routinely spliced together different takes to create iconic hits such as “From Me to You,” “She Loves You,” and “This Boy.” “Get Back” would undergo a similar reconstruction. Still, these April 1969 recordings endeavored to re-capture the excitement of live performance.

But the world into which they ushered this music moved differently than the heady days of 1963’s Beatlemania. Britain’s musical, social, and political climate boiled in the stew of late sixties change. In April 1969, Parliament reduced the voting age from 21 to 18 enfranchising and empowering its “bulge” generation and recognizing their powerful influence over culture. Similarly, immigrants from the British Commonwealth transformed the fiber of daily British life and infuriated right-wing politicians and hooligans who resented the social change. And indigenous intolerance flourished as Northern Ireland’s tensions between Protestants and Catholics erupted into firebombs. We rightfully remember the sixties as an era when new paradigms clashed with established prejudices. Throughout 1968, young British mods had latched onto a new music, embracing Jamaican reggae and ska such that on 16 April 1969, Desmond Dekker and the Aces would see their “The Israelites” become the first reggae tune to capture the top spot on many British charts.

In this turmoil, the Beatles struggled to find their place. John Lennon had voiced his political ambivalence in “Revolution” and George Harrison’s “Piggies” chastised the ruling class he had always resented. Paul McCartney’s songwriting fell back upon his love of character studies (“Michele,” “Eleanor Rigby,” and “Lady Madonna”) and his inherent ability to mimic musically (the music hall in “When I’m Sixty-four” and even reggae in “Ob-la-di Ob-la-da” where he references Desmond Dekker).

“Get Back” (built around a groove á la Frankie Laine’s “Rawhide”) became McCartney’s vehicle for social commentary, ostensibly about the desire to return to a simpler style of life (which he would embrace with his farm in Scotland) and briefly about racial politics. McCartney had floated a text intended to ridicule Enoch Powell’s incendiary Birmingham speech of 20 April 1968 in which the conservative had declared that immigration led him, “Like the Romans…, to see ‘the River Tiber flowing with much blood’.” McCartney’s awkward parody joked that Pakistanis who crowded council flats should get back to where they once belonged. Unfortunately, McCartney lacked Lennon’s or even George Harrison’s verbal knack for satire, and he dropped the idea.

Instead of a verse about immigration, and perhaps as a predecessor to Ray Davies “Lola” (recorded a year later), McCartney retreated to character study: Sweet Loretta Martin who, although a man, believes herself to be a woman. Unlike Ray Davies who quite happily accepts Lola’s trans-gendered identity, McCartney seems to urge Loretta (like the Pakistanis) to get back to where she belongs.

Unfortunately, the text and music lacks much of an obvious sense of irony, more a comment on McCartney’s lyrical skills than to any characteristic prejudice. Still, the Beatles would make their own statement on racial and cultural tensions by inviting American Billy Preston to join them on electric piano and crediting him on the record label, something they had not done with Eric Clapton (“While My Guitar Gently Weeps”) and certainly not with Nicky Hopkins (“Revolution”) and Andy White (“Love Me Do”).

The Beatles knew something had come undone when they needed an outsider to help them work together. Preston and Clapton only reinforced the internal belief that a door was closing.

Recent Comments

Roger Dopson19th April 2009

Hello Gordon: at the risk of sounding pedantic, I’d like to pull you up on your comment that “Throughout 1968, young British mods had latched onto a new music, embracing Jamaican reggae and ska…”
A couple of points:-
1: It was by no means a “new music”. Bluebeat and Ska had been hugely popular among Mods as early as 1963 – one of the first ‘underground’ successes in the UK was Derrick & Patsy’s “Housewife’s Choice”, which is reckoned to have sold well in excess of 200,000 copies, not a single one of which passed through a chart return shop. Guys like Derrick Morgan and Prince Buster were hugely popular in the UK and sold shedloads of records, and not just to expat West Indians. During 1964, Bluebeat started crossing over to the UK mainstream, most notably via Millie’s ‘My Boy Lollipop’, which reached No.2 (a feat it repeated in the US). But the first Bluebeat record to make the UK charts was Ezz Reco’s “King Of Kings”, in Feb ’64.
2: However, circa 1967 Ska music was annexed by the first generation of Skinheads, who were the polar opposites of Mods, both attitudinally and sartorially (“Club Ska ’67” was their seminal album, which charted in 1967).
3: Indeed, by 1969, there were no Mods – the very word had already become obsolete. The closest things to Mods were Suedeheads, who were essentially upmarket Skinheads (i.e. they dressed smartly and expensively). They were, in essence, what Mods had evolved into, although they regarded the term ‘Mod’ as an insult.
Apologies if I’m being pedantic.
Roger Dopson

Roger, thanks for the comments, especially coming from someone of your stature. I think we agree, even if we’re calling things by different names.

1. I’m fully aware that so-called “blue beat” had been around Britain for a while and that some examples had been hits. (I’m specifically thinking of Millie Small’s 1964 ska tunes produced by Chris Blackwell and directed by Ernest Ranglin.) By “new,” I meant in reference to the Mods (more on that below), supplanting that demographic’s penchant for Motown and James Brown. They had been cottoning to Jamaican music for a while, but it’s not until 1968 that a ska or reggae tune–“the Israelites”–hits the top of British charts.

2 and 3. I see the first generation of short-haired “hard mods” (as distinct from their later incarnations) representing the same demographic as the Mods and dominated by the same profile: white working-class males. Maybe the fixation with Italian suits and Vespas was gone (long before replaced by Carnaby Street eccentricities), but the interest in an idealized black musical experience (whether modern jazz, R&B, or ska) remained. Each wave of this demographic expressed the same preferences in different ways.

In my admittedly naive understanding of British youth culture in the sixties, as the mods replaced the Teds (with rockers an interesting, awkward, and doomed transition), so the skinheads replaced the Mods. The reality of this social transformation is admittedly much more complex than I’m capable of describing here (or maybe anywhere), but I recognize the apparent disjuncture you identify. Dick Hebdige’s study on this era informs my understanding.

All this goes to prove that you should have no fear of being pedantic with a professor. :-)

What I found interesting was the conjunction in April 1968 of the changes in the voting age, the one-year anniversary of Enoch Powell’s speech, Desmond Dekker’s chart success, and the Beatles’ “Get Back.” Of course, all of this sits against the backdrop of the Vietnam War, riots and assassinations in the US, brewing student resentment throughout the Western world, and the Orange-IRA violence in Northern Ireland. Exciting and dangerous times, to be sure. I’d like to hear your memories of that era.